


you can hear it in the silence

by independentalto



Series: (all that i can hear is) a simple song [7]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends AU, F/M, ft. milton the cabbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons have always been together.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: (all that i can hear is) a simple song [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594819
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39





	you can hear it in the silence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "You Are In Love" by Taylor Swift, as covered by Travis Atreo

If asked, Jemma and Fitz would be hard-pressed to remember a time when they  _ hadn’t  _ been best friends. Such a time existed, sure, but it was buried deep in the recesses of their minds, stuck behind layers of hysterical sleepovers and promises never to air horrible photos. Fitz would say they’d become best friends sometime during kindergarten; Jemma would say she knew they were destined to be friends as soon as she laid eyes on him. 

When they fell in love with the other, however, is an even bigger disagreement. 

Jemma likes to say it was the moment she’d had to call him to pick her up from Milton’s (Milton the Cabbage, Fitz always said) apartment in the dead of night, the two of them having gotten into a fight over dinner and Jemma being stranded until morning. 

Fitz’s face was inscrutable the moment Jemma opened the door to the darkened foyer, eyes softening from something mysterious into pure gratitude when she practically fell into his arms with exhaustion and red-rimmed eyes. He doesn’t ask until they’re well into the car and rattling along the highway, his joke about being a runaway girlfriend falling flat and Jemma fidgeting with the buttons on her coat. 

“He thinks I’m in love with you,” Jemma offers into the still, fragile silence that is the car’s front seat. “I mean, I told him not to be silly, of  _ course  _ I’m not in love with you, we’re just friends, but he...I...” The words peter off into the silence, and Fitz concentrates on the road ahead while she stares out the window. 

“You’re my best friend, Jemma.” Fitz finally says, and she turns back to him. “Milton’s a right cabbage if he keeps thinkin’ otherwise.” Jemma’s still silent, the moonlight passing through the window and glinting off of the chain she keeps on her neck. One of the necklace’s many charms is half of a ‘best friends’ locket -- he keeps the other on a short bracelet at home. 

They finally pull up to Fitz’s apartment and make their way inside in silence, Jemma hanging her coat on her own designated hook and Fitz wandering into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Once they’re both sat on the couch, steaming cups in their hands, Fitz nudges Jemma’s shoulder. “Look up.” 

She does, and plastered onto the ceiling are several glow-in-the-dark stars arranged into the shape of a smiley face. “Wh --” Jemma begins to ask, but is consumed with giggles all the same. “I can feel it already, Fitz. He’s becoming a friend.” 

“Hopefully not your best friend,” 

“Of course not, silly. You could never be replaced.” Exhaustion takes Jemma soon after that, and Fitz drapes a blanket over her before heading to bed, glancing at the smiley face stars one last time to make sure they watch over her. 

He wakes the next morning to find smoke in the kitchen and Jemma swearing over his toaster. Two plates are already set on the kitchen island, mugs of tea steeping next to them. The only thing missing is something  _ on  _ the plate -- presumably the things currently smoking up his kitchen. 

The toaster is unplugged, eggs scrambled instead, and the two of them spend a quiet breakfast poring over the crossword. At least, it’s quiet until: “I need to leave him. Will you take me?” 

He keeps his word, she borrows a shirt, and on the way over, he waits outside, pretending like he isn’t listening to the conversation going on inside. When she later comes out, pale and shaking, he’s out of the car in a flash, throwing all caution to the wind when he catches her in his arms. “It’s okay, Jem,” he murmurs over and over, kissing her forehead before he can think better of it. “I’ve got you.” 

(She knows it’s then that she falls in love with Leopold Fitz, despite saying the latter not even a day ago.)

With Milton the cabbage gone, Jemma spends an unprecedented amount of time at Fitz’s, going so far as to set up an air mattress in the living room and attempt to pay rent. (He only allows the mattress.) She pokes fun at his breakfast habits, he complains when she steals his shirts, only for her to vehemently deny it. He fixes her smiley eggs when she’s down, she perfects the art of making his tea in the mornings. 

It’s harmony. And two whole months go by before Fitz even realizes it. 

The thought jolts him awake one night when they pass out in the living room, the result of a too-long Dr. Who marathon and some beers. It takes him a minute to realize where he is -- after all, it isn’t like he makes a habit of sleeping on his couch. Soft snoring comes from just at his right, and just like that, there’s Jemma, moonlight slanting over her cheek. 

It isn’t like he hasn’t seen her sleeping before. But the truth of it all is, it’s almost like he hasn’t -- seeing her now is  _ very  _ much different than seeing her back when they were kids. She looks peaceful, almost ethereal, and Fitz can’t stop the thought popping into his head that  _ yeah, I could spend the rest of my life with her _ . The involuntary noise that escapes his mouth at that causes Jemma to stir, though, and blink blearily at him. 

“Why’s you still ‘wake, Fitz? You look funny.” 

“It’s nothin’,” Fitz assures her, and she nods in a manner akin to a sleepy baby bunny. “Jemma,” he says anyways, because for some reason, he’s a glutton for punishment. She looks at him hazily. “You’re my best friend.” 

Already half asleep, Jemma nods and passes right back out. The moment is forgotten the next morning when Fitz is woken by the smell of burning eggs. 

And so it goes. Uni becomes said and done. Both of them secure jobs in Seattle, and celebrate their first apartment with tacos from the truck across the street and the frostiest beer they can find. Jemma heads a lab studying Alzheimer’s. Fitz, although he works in a lab on the weekends, spends his time in an office cubicle working with manufacturers and warehouses. They fight. They laugh. Occasionally, they set some things on fire. Neither of them mentions the fact that there is a clear absence of significant others. 

It does make itself clear, however, during one holiday season, when the snow comes down so thick Jemma sends everyone home as a contingency and swings by Fitz’s office instead. Maybe she’ll convince him to build a snowman, since their apartment has a genuine backyard available to all of the residents. 

The first thing she sees is the framed photo of themselves sitting on a filing cabinet. It’s from their days in middle school, when they’d both decided to dress up as Harry Potter characters in honor of the new release. In it, Jemma is pointing a wand at the camera while Fitz simply stares at her like she had written the damn thing herself. 

“You kept this?” is all she asks, and it jolts Fitz out of whatever stupor she’d found him in. “The snow’s coming down quite thickly. I thought you might want to call it a day and head home.” Now that she thought about it, most of the office had been empty when she’d walked in...

Fitz looked up as if just seeing how empty the office was. “I’ll get my coat.”

The afternoon is spent starting at the fat flakes as they tumble from the sky, both of them nursing matching cups of tea. “You reckon there’s enough to build a snowman?” Jemma asked, looking down at the lawn below. “We could even name him, if you’d like."

Fitz joined her, their shoulders pushing together as he examined the lay of the backyard. “I’d say give it another hour or two.”

“You’re coming with me.” 

“Am I, Jemma?” He should’ve known all it would take was one look. “I am, aren’t I?” It’s not even something he regrets later, as he watches Jemma twirl around outside and try to catch flakes on her tongue. 

“C’mon, Fitz!” she calls, voice slightly muffled by the fact that she’s sticking her tongue out. “Come catch snowflakes with me!” The two of them wind up intertwined, tongues sticking out in a way that, had they not been alone, would probably have been fairly suspicious. It’s Jemma who catches one first, Fitz looking on amusedly at her squeals of delight. 

He’s not sure what prompts him to kiss her. Blame it on the snow, possibly, or some sort of higher orchestration, the kind that they made fun of on the TV. But he does know that, in the middle of their self-imposed snowglobe, that Jemma’s lips are warm and soft and somehow kissing him back. 

“I’m in love with you,” he blurts out when they pull back at last. Shock and disbelief make the quickest run through Jemma’s facial expressions before they’re kissing again, this time with her hand cupping the back of his neck. 

He understands now, why men have lost their minds and fought wars over women -- given half the chance, he would do the same.

“Good,” she whispers among the winds and the snow blowing around them. “Because I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” 


End file.
